Under His Protection. Linda Turner

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СКАЧАТЬ “Someone should be there any second.”

      The words were hardly out of her mouth when the sound of sirens cut sharply through the night air. Glancing out the window near the front door, John watched as a county patrol car skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust before his cabin. He didn’t unlock the door, however, until he saw who stepped out of the car.

      “Looks like we got the top dog,” John told Elizabeth. “The sheriff himself. Not,” he added, “that that means a hell of a lot. From what Buck told me, law enforcement around here’s nothing but a joke. I guess we’re about to find out.”

      He opened the door at the sheriff’s sharp knock and held out his hand to him in greeting. “Glad you could get here so quickly, Sheriff. I’m John Cassidy. And this is Elizabeth Wyatt.”

      “Glad to meet you,” the other man said amiably, shaking his hand, then stepping over to Elizabeth to do the same. “I’m Sherm Clark, Ms. Wyatt. What’s this about an intruder?”

      “I found a note in my bedroom warning me to leave while I still could,” she said grimly, nodding to the single piece of paper John had laid on the lamp table by the front window. “Since John and I are the only ones on the ranch, someone else was obviously here.”

      “Did you see anyone else?” he asked as he stepped over to the table and carefully picked up the paper with a pair of tweezers. “Hear anything?”

      “Nothing,” she retorted. “I’ve been working in the ranch office all day. I saw the note when I went up to my room to collect some things for a bath. The note was on my pillow.”

      “And where were you?” he asked John.

      “Here in my cabin. I worked on the tractor all day and had just finished taking a shower myself when Elizabeth showed up at my door with the note.”

      “So neither one of you saw anyone.” Frowning, he slipped the note into an evidence bag, then glanced up sharply at John. “Did you touch the note?”

      He nodded. “But just on the right hand corner. Both of our prints are on there.”

      “Then I’ll need you both to come down to the office tomorrow and have your fingerprints taken. Then we’ll send the note to the state lab and see who else has been handling this.”

      Studying him shrewdly, John said, “You don’t really expect any other prints to be on there, do you?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t have any expectations one way or the other. I’m just doing my job and following up on the evidence. Speaking of which, I need to dust the doors and Ms. Wyatt’s bedroom for prints. The exterior doors to the house were locked, weren’t they?”

      When both men looked at her, Elizabeth wanted to sink right through the floor. “Not yet,” she admitted huskily. “I usually lock them right before I go upstairs at night, but I was distracted and completely forgot about it.”

      “Elizabeth! You know what’s been going on around here—”

      “I know. I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid—”

      “You were lucky this time,” the sheriff told her. “This is a big house. If someone wanted to harm you, they could slip in through an unlocked door, hide out until nightfall, then slit your throat while you’re sleeping. Keep your doors locked at all times.”

      Blanching, she pressed a hand to her throat. “I will,” she said huskily.

      “You don’t have to scare her to death,” John said, scowling.

      “She needs to know what can happen,” the older man said flatly. “Don’t underestimate people, especially someone who wants what you have.”

      “Trust me, I won’t,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going to keep everything locked. I’ll carry my keys with me everywhere I go in the house and on the property, even if it’s just outside to the chicken coop to collect the eggs. I’m not going through this again.”

      “Good,” Sherm Clark retorted. “Now show me your bedroom.”

      Chapter 3

      There was no sign of a break-in. The front and back doors, as well as the door to Elizabeth’s room, were dusted for prints, but the sheriff made no secret of the fact that the only fingerprints he expected to find were those of John and Elizabeth.

      “Not,” he quickly pointed out, “that I think either of one of you are lying about who wrote the note or how it ended up on Elizabeth’s pillow. All I know is that someone put it there. Give me a logical explanation of who that someone was and I’ll be happy to check it out.”

      Frustrated, Elizabeth wasn’t the least bit fooled. She didn’t care what he said, he obviously thought either she or John was responsible for the note. He refused to even consider any other possibility. Irritating man! What kind of sheriff was he? If John had written the note as some kind of twisted joke, he wouldn’t have insisted on calling the authorities. So that left her. Why would she write a note to herself, then let John call the sheriff? What purpose would it serve?

      “I’m sleeping on the couch,” John told her bluntly after the sheriff left.

      Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. “That’s not necessary. As long as the doors are locked—”

      “I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” he said flatly. “If you don’t like it, call Buck.”

      She wasn’t going to do that, and they both knew it. “Fine,” she retorted. “Have it your way. I’m going to bed. You don’t have to sleep on the couch—there’s a downstairs guest room.”

      “The couch in the family room is better—it’s close to the stairs. I’ll be able to hear you if you need help.”

      She wasn’t going to need help—she had to believe that or she wouldn’t sleep a wink. But all she said was, “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” Retrieving a blanket and pillow from the downstairs linen closet for him, she said, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

      She felt his eyes on her all the way up the stairs, and it was all she could do not to look back. What was it about the man that made it impossible for her to ignore him? she wondered as she reached her room and began to get ready for bed. She was upstairs, he was down, and she knew it was impossible to hear what he was doing. Still, she could have sworn that she could hear every breath he took. She had to be losing her mind.

      Irritated with herself for being so fanciful, she crawled into bed a few moments later and closed her eyes with a tired sigh. She might as well have tried to catch forty winks in the middle of the Denver airport—it wasn’t going to happen. Frustrated, she punched her pillow into a more comfortable position, but even though she felt safe with John sleeping downstairs, she couldn’t put the note out of her head. She might not know the name of whoever left the warning on her pillow, but it was obviously someone who thought they had a chance of inheriting the ranch by scaring her into leaving.

      It wasn’t going to happen, she vowed grimly. She wasn’t going to be the one who let the family down. And she wasn’t going to live in fear or hide in her room on her own ranch!

      The decision made, she СКАЧАТЬ